


Ficlets Assemble

by corellianrogue



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mistaken Identity, Team as Family, not in the same ficlets tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 14:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11602662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corellianrogue/pseuds/corellianrogue
Summary: Ficlets written for various Avengers movies. Currently: Steve waking up to find New York different in more ways than one. Clint and Natasha having what Clint likes to think might be a moment.





	1. Rain Check

**Author's Note:**

> Steve goes out to walk off a dream and sees a vision, instead.
> 
> Written for the 2012 hc_bingo challenge on LJ.
> 
> Cleaning up and posting the rest of my old fic that never made it here to AO3. Don't mind the dust.

_”Am I too late for my rain-check?”_  
  
_Peggy spun around, just as he’d known she would. Heck, he’d only spent the entirety of the trip back to the continent picturing it. The way she’d stare, in equal parts disbelief and amazement, both of which were quickly overshadowed by anger that he’d kept her waiting so long. Not that she’d really be angry, but she’d cross her arms and give him that flat look, and tell him no gentleman ever kept a lady waiting as long as he had, but just this once, she’d make an exception._  
  
_And then she’d laugh and fling herself at him and throw her arms around his neck, and it would be like he’d never gotten on that plane, like he’d never left her behind or almost died and stood her up._  
  
_“Oh, Steve.” Her voice was warm in his ear, just like he’d known it would be. “I can’t believe you really made it.”_  
  
_He couldn’t believe it, either._  
  
He woke up.  
  
~  
  
He spent a very long time staring up at his ceiling before he could bring himself to move. They’d given him a proper room instead of the set up he’d woken up in when he’d asked. There wasn’ t much reason to pretend he was where he wasn’t, and he’d never been too fond of lying. At least, not lying when it didn’t do anything but make you feel even worse. They’d given him new clothes to go with it, and all the sorts of things people apparently needed in the future.  
  
He’d been given an entirely new life. It didn’t come even close to replacing the one he’d lost.  
  
He got dressed, or what passed for dressed in this decade. Going out in a dress shirt and tie would get him more attention than going out in what felt like an undershirt, he’d been told. He wasn’t supposed to draw attention to himself. Once they’d been sure he understood that, he’d been given free run of the city, as long as he remembered to take along his cellular phone. He wasn’t sure how they worked, still, but he knew how to answer it, and that was what mattered.  
  
He nodded to the guards he passed on his way out, knowing someone would report his leaving sooner or later. The agent who’d showed him around had joked that it felt like he was showing his grandfather around the city he’d spent his entire life in, but Steve couldn’t agree. New York hadn’t looked anything like this, the last time he’d seen it. It hadn’t felt anything like this. Even this late at night, the streets were full of cars and people. He stuck his hands in his pockets, picked a random direction, and started walking.  
  
Or tried to. He normally ignored the people he passed, just as much as they ignored him, but this time, something -someone- caught his eye. He missed a step, almost falling square in the middle of the sidewalk and stumbling into a person going the other way. He apologized absently, eyes locked on the sight halfway up the block.  
  
It was her. It had to be. He’d recognize the back of her head anywhere. The civilian clothes were a shock, but everything else was right. He pushed past the people in the way, shock holding him back from calling her name to get her attention faster. He reached out for her arm, pulling her around a bit more strongly than he’d intended, and...  
  
...found himself staring down into a pair of wide blue eyes. Wide, startled, completely wrong blue eyes.  
  
And now that he let himself see it, the hair was a shade or two too light, hidden in shade between street lamps. The clothes were modern, and nothing she would have worn, even if she had been here. Everything was wrong, but especially the eyes. They should have been brown.  
  
“I... I’m sorry. I was expecting someone else.” He released her quickly, backing up with his hands raised until he was sure no one thought he was up to anything untoward. He wasn’t expecting the way her eyes stayed locked on him, curious and concerned now instead of afraid.  
  
“Yeah? She stand you up?” Her voice was wrong, too. “I wouldn’t do that with a guy who looked like you.”  
  
Two other girls with her giggled. Suddenly, he just wanted to be back surrounded by emotionless agents in black suits. He took another step back. “No. No, she didn’t.” He turned away quickly, hands back in his pockets.  
  
“I was late.”


	2. The One Time in Moscow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not every friendship starts off with a bang. Some, however, start off with lots of them.
> 
> Written for the very first Fandom Weekly challenge over on DW.

“You really want to hear this one again?”

Of course they did. The agreement from Natasha was a little more unexpected, but only if you didn’t know her as well as he did.

“Okay, okay. It was a long time ago…”

“Since when was this a fairy tale?”

“Aunt Nat, you’re ruining the story!”

“Yeah, stop ruining the story. Where was I?”

“Somewhere just before ‘it was a dark and stormy night,’ I think.”

It had been, now he thought about it, but since she’d brought it up, he’d just cut that part out. 

“ _It was a long time ago._ I was on a business trip. A boring one, since I didn’t know your Aunt Nat yet.”

“Oh, sure, blame it all on me.”

Technically, he had known Natasha then, but only in an abstract sort of way, how people at the top of their game always ‘know’ the opposition.

“I will, thanks. Moving on.”

It wasn’t a long story, not the way he told it to the kids. The whole thing had seemed to take forever when it was happening, but looking back…

The rest of the bedtime ritual went along with no more than the usual amount of grumbling and sulking. The house was quiet for the night with Laura off at some bachelorette party or something. She didn’t ask too much about his work and he didn’t ask too much about her girlfriends and both of them were happier for it. Natasha was already waiting when he finally managed to escape after the third round of ‘Daddy, I need a…’

“They’re still cute.”

“You say that every time, and every time I tell you you’re welcome to kidnap them to try them out for yourself, but you still haven’t taken me up on it.”

She smiled that little smile that had guys that weren’t him falling all over themselves for her. He usually just wanted to punch those guys. 

“But who would you papa bear, then?”

Silences between them were pretty comfortable, most of the time. You got good at that sort of thing when you spent so much time waiting with nothing to do but wait some more. This wasn’t one of those silences. He still let it sit, pretending to pay more attention to the dishes from dinner than they deserved.

Eventually, it worked. Just like always.

“That story. You made a lot of it sound nice.”

“I’m not gonna give my kids nightmares on purpose.”

“Do you remember it like that?”

The version the kids got did have a lot fewer gunshots and at least a little less poison in it than the real thing had. Sometimes he thought it might be nice to have actual stories like that.

“Nah. We are what we are. Not gonna sugarcoat it.”

“Just to them.”

“Just to them.”

“But you do remember it.”

Right. So this was where the conversation was going. Familiar ground, at least, even if it was filled with landmines.

“Course I do. I remember lots of stuff about you; I’m not gonna forget the first time we met.”

“Even if I was trying to kill you?”

“Technically, you were trying to kill the Senator.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Try me, if you don’t believe me.”

He could see the moment she decided the challenge sounded like a good idea. He checked the staircase. It’d be just like his rugrats to decide tonight would be a good night to sneak out of bed.

“Fine. What hotel were you in?”

“Nice try. We weren’t in a hotel, we were staying in the Embassy until the security risk was taken care of. Not exactly five stars. Thanks for that.”

“You shot out the tires on my favorite bike.”

“If that was your favorite bike, I was doing you a favor.”

He grinned. She glared. 

“No one’s memory is that good.”

His memories about her weren’t, she meant. He wasn’t sure if it was a dig at his age or herself, but either way, that was a challenge he’d take.

“Seriously? It happened on the first of the month.”

He held up one finger pointedly. Not that he remembered that part because of her. He remembered because his paycheck had been late. Maybe it was the shadow organization Russian nesting doll shtick S.H.I.E.L.D. had going, but for all their tech, they still hadn’t mastered the art of direct deposit. He’d gotten home after the whole fiasco to find it in his mailbox looking like a dog tried to eat it, all wrapped up in a cheerfully apologetic Post Office envelope. ‘ _We care about your mail_ ’ his ass. 

But when you foot an unexpected trip through Russia, you remember the details.

“You were wearing that awful sack you called a dress because you thought I was some stupid American who wouldn’t notice.”

Another finger joined the first. Of course he’d noticed. Even if he hadn’t known who she was, he’d have noticed. Natasha could say it was nurture over nature all she wanted, but she was the sort of person you noticed in a crowded room. How that fit with being an international spy, he didn’t know, but she made it work.

“You-”

“I get it.”

On the little tally board in his mind, another chalk mark went up in his favor. She was still winning, but he didn’t mind it that way.

“So yeah, of course I remember. You’re hard to forget. Even when you’re trying to kill me. Maybe especially when you’re trying to kill me.”

Point being she hadn’t killed him, for whatever reason she’d had, and it got him thinking even back then. It was the first time they met, but definitely not the last, and eventually he’d gotten to return the favor. Maybe they didn’t have good stories back then, but it didn’t mean they never could. 

Either of them.

She was smiling, now, not the makes-guys-stupid kind, but a real one. 

“Thanks, Clint.”

“Any time.”


End file.
